


The All Nighter

by La_Pacifidora



Series: My Milady/Milord Ficcy Friday Responses [7]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Pacifidora/pseuds/La_Pacifidora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The all-nighter the study group pulled after Annie ratted out Senor Chang to the Dean wasn't the first time they fell asleep in the study room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The All Nighter

**Author's Note:**

> Set ambiguously in an imagined season 2. Originally posted at [Milady/Milord, on LJ, in June 2010.](http://community.livejournal.com/milady_milord/128354.html?thread=1202274#t1202274) Prompt was "napping," from 0penhearts. Un-beta'd.
> 
> Disclaimer: Greendale doesn't belong to me; it belongs to all of us. But only a very select few of us make any money from it. I'm not one of those select few.

The all-nighter the study group pulled after Annie ratted out Senor Chang to the Dean wasn't the first time they fell asleep in the study room.

An hour or so before the Dean had switched on the announcement system, blaring "Antelope slaughter" through the buildings, Jeff had shifted in his sleep, blinking a little as the buzzing of the fluorescent lights had intruded on his dreams.

(In which a petite, dark-haired woman in a flowered dress was walking away from him, despite the fact that he kept calling out to her to stop. Even in his dream, he realized there was no sound coming from his mouth every time he called out to the woman. Somehow, he knew he had to make the woman stop walking away - that something bad would happen if he didn't - but without seeing her face, without knowing for sure who it was, he didn't know what name to call out, what to say to convince her to stop. And though he wanted to stop and sit down and ignore her, his dreaming self knew that he had to keep trying to get her attention.)

As he'd blinked and turned his head, he'd seen Annie's empty chair and, without quiet knowing why, felt like something was wrong. 

Something other than knowing he would probably fail the Spanish final. 

He'd turned his head back the other way, trying to find a more comfortable position, slumped as he was over the table. Before he'd closed his eyes again, he'd seen Abed asleep in the seat next to his, one arm stretched over the table and the other curled around Britta, whose head was resting on his arm. His sleepy mind tried to process that pairing, but he managed only two thoughts as he'd dozed off again: Huh. Big surprise.

***  
By the time midterms rolled around, the study group was beginning to regret having signed up for Anthropology. 

No one more so than Annie.

The professor was clearly a sadist. Previous quizzes and tests had demonstrated this professor's love for including questions about obscure details in the textbook.

Although theyd' all put time and effort into the class, no one's grade - not even Annie's - was safe. They were going to need every minute to study - and maybe a miracle - to pass the exam.

But somewhere between Marx and Montagu, they had begun to drop. And Annie, feeling as guilty she did for having suggested the class in the first place, didn't say a word. 

Soon, the only ones left awake are Annie and Jeff. 

Pierce and Shirley have each claimed a couch in the corner: Shirley's head is pillowed on her purse, and Pierce had draped his blazer over her in a rare show of chivalry. (Pierce himself is stretched out facing the couch's back, head on his duffel bag and a sweatshirt he'd found draped over it's back pulled over his shoulder for warmth.)

Troy had stretched out across two chairs and a side table and is clutching his textbook to his chest like a teddy bear. Occasionally he murmured a little and shifted, holding the textbook tighter.

Abed and Britta had gone for provisions a few hours earlier and settled back into their chairs when they returned. Eventually, Britta had dropped off against his shoulder. Abed had followed soon after, his arm around her shoulders, and his cheek pillowed against her blonde curls.  
***  
When they'd noticed, Annie had been a little surprised to see Jeff shoot her a look that seemed to echo the thought she'd had herself: Huh. Big Surprise.

Jeff had lasted as long as he could, and it's only when Annie sat back with a sigh that she realized he had fallen asleep, his chin propped up in one hand, the other resting on his open textbook.

Asleep, the defiant jut of his chin is gone and the sardonic tilt to his eyes has been replaced with a peacefulness she didn't often see on his face.

Still, she worried that he'd move at some point and drop his own head on the table. (Having slammed his head into that very table, Annie now took particular care to prevent the two from meeting too often and with too much force.)

She stood, stretching her back and rolling her neck to try and work out the kinks. Stepping over, she moved the chair next to Jeff's back and reached forward, one hand lifting his head and the other straightening his bent arm out. She lays his head down on his outstretched arm. Noticing his jacket on the back of his seat, she drapes it over his shoulders, smoothing the wool fabric across his shoulders and tucking the collar around his neck.

Annie looked down at him for a moment, stopping the hand that had moved on its own to smooth the hair at the back of his head (looking strangely out of place, thanks to Jeff's frustration while memorizing the important dates for Thomas Aquinas and Ibn Khaldun) only at the last moment. It hovered there for a moment, and Annie felt the heat radiating from his scalp.

She shifted backward to return to her own seat when Jeff's hand isn't on the textbook anymore, it's on her elbow. Annie's eyes shot to his face, but his are still closed. A furrow appeared between his brows and his mouth twisted, as though he was in pain. 

"Stop." Jeff's voice was soft, and, if she wasn't standing less than a foot from him, Annie's not sure she would have heard it. His hand tugged her elbow, and she only knew how exhausted she actually was when the gentle force is enough to set her wobbling. Rather than falling face first onto the table or flat on her ass, Annie blindly reaches back with her free hand and, catching the seat next to Jeff's, pulls it forward and sits down.

"Jeff." She was already whispering, so she didn't really know why she thought she should lean forward, but she did. "Let go. I need to study."

"No." Jeff's eyes are still closed, and all she can think is he must be dreaming, though of who or what, she can't begin to guess. "Stay." And his hand, still on her elbow, tugged her closer.

"Jeff." Annie wheedled, not ready yet to give up on her studying.

"Don't leave." He tugged again, and Annie pulled their chairs closer rather than end up on the floor. "Don't leave me."

And Annie had no reason not to, so she folded her arm beneath her head and leant into him, wondering if his jacket was large enough to cover both of them. 

When instead, a moment later, Jeff's hand dropped her elbow and his arm went about her shoulder, Annie decided she didn't need his jacket: She only needed the personal space heater that was Jeff.  
***  
A couple of hours before the Dean did the morning announcements, Jeff shifted in his sleep, blinking a little as the buzzing of the fluorescent lights intruded on his dreams.

(In which a petite, dark-haired woman in a flowered dress was walking away from him, despite the fact that he kept calling out to her to stop. Even in his dream, he could hear his own voice. Somehow, he knew he had to make the woman stop walking away - that something bad would happen if he didn't - but even without seeing her face, without knowing for sure who it was, he called out anyway, saying anything convince her to stop. And just when he thought he might as well sit down and stop trying, the woman stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder, a blue eye above a pink cheek, edged in soft, dark waves.)

As he blinked, all he saw was a brown-black field. One thought filtered through his sleepy mind: Oh. God. I'm blind. He blinked again and shifted, noticing Anne's empty chair across from him, and a feeling that something was wrong swept through him. 

Something other than thinking he might fail the Anthropology midterm.

The brown-black field shifted, his left arm moving a little with it, and he heard a soft sigh. A moment later, the shape next to his head (which, he absently noted, smelled like the apple-mint shampoo Annie favored) moved again, and Annie's face appeared, close enough to his he could see each individual eyelash and the soft hairs that wisped along her temples. (Not that Jeff registered much beyond 'Annie' in his mostly asleep state.)

Annie snuggled closer to him, and his arm tightened around her shoulders even as his head moved closer to hers and the hand at the end of the arm it rested on drifted around to lie alongside her own outstretched fingers. 

Jeff closed his eyes again, the feeling of wrongness fading even as he dozed off again.

After all, Annie had told him a good night's sleep was essential to retaining information. 

Jeff had a midterm to ace in a few hours.  
***  
The all-nighter the study group pulled after Annie ratted out Senor Chang to the Dean wasn't the first time they fell asleep in the study room.

And it wouldn't be the last.


End file.
